


Marked

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-04
Updated: 2013-06-04
Packaged: 2017-12-13 22:39:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/829680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A very short, somewhat fluffy fic based on the canon Sterek wink from the season three premiere. No intense spoilers, so it's safe to read for those who haven't watched the episode yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Marked

_“To mark something.”_

Stiles stood to the side, arms crossed against his chest as he watched Scott’s slumped figure in the chair. His hair stood on end, an effect of his half-transformation, and his face was oddly serene for someone who had just had a layer of flesh burned from their arm. Despite his peaceful expression, his body was shining with sweat and his brow quivered.

The skin around the tattoo was red and blistered and frankly, pretty damn ugly. Stiles’ lips curled into a grimace at the sight of it – as if just regular needles weren’t bad enough. Derek was packing away the blowtorch and his other tools, leaving the abandoned house in utter silence.

Finally, Derek finished his task and brushed his hands off on his jeans. Stiles looked up from Scott to see the older man staring at him from across the room.

“Not one for discretion, are you?” Derek asked, his tone harsh, though his face told a different story.

Stiles shrugged. “Scott didn’t notice,” he answered.

Derek snorted and stalked across the room to stand at Stiles’ side. He mimicked the younger man’s stance and crossed his arms, except he of course made the position look far more intimidating. Stiles glanced at the Alpha from the corner of his eye, only to frown and let his arms fall awkwardly at his sides until he stuffed his hands in his pockets and continued to watch Scott.

“So why aren’t you pulling favours to be tattooed?” Derek asked, breaking the pressing silence.

Now it was Stiles’ turn to snort. He turned his head to shoot Derek an incredulous look, though he couldn’t keep the smile from tugging at his lips.

“I think I’ve been marked enough for one year,” he said sarcastically.

Derek chuckled darkly as he uncrossed his arms to snake one around Stiles’ waist. He pulled the younger man closer in an almost playful manner that elicited a small laugh.

“It’s still there?” Derek asked, genuinely interested. They hadn’t gotten much alone time since Scott had finished summer school, so he honestly didn’t know. He pushed his hand under Stiles’ plaid overshirt and toyed with the wifebeater underneath. In a tantalizingly slow movement he slipped his fingers under the grey shirt and pulled it up, his fingers brushing against Stiles’ blushing skin.

Stiles was silent as Derek pulled his shirt up to reveal an angry-looking mark below his ribs. The Alpha traced the darkened skin with his fingertips.

“I don’t think it’ll be fading any time soon,” Stiles answered with a bit more attitude than he had intended. Derek’s eyebrows shot up, as he was both amused and slightly taken aback. His eyes quickly flashed from Stiles’ face to his abdomen, where the mark stared back - bruised and looking just as fresh as the day he had put it there.

They stood in silence then, Derek’s hand still tangled in Stiles’ shirt and Stiles with his hands deep in his pockets as they watched the unconscious werewolf across the room. Though no words were spoken, each knew what the other was thinking.

_Hot summer days – far too hot for shirts. Days devoted to each other while nights are spent pretending that everything is just as Scott knew it before he left for school. Chest against chest and hearts pounding wildly together. Dull fingernails digging short-lived trails down a broad back as sharper claws tear through sheets. Sweet kisses tracing paths from lips to neck to chest. Clawed hands grasping slender hips as hollowed breaths awaken dangerously sharp fangs. A moan from above. Teeth scrape pale skin. A name half-swallowed in passion._

_Too much. Too fast. Teeth bare, sink in. Not deep enough to puncture, but hard enough to bruise. A burning sensation. A hiss. A brand. Mine, all mine. Marked._

“Think he’ll ever figure it out?” Derek asked finally.

Stiles shrugged again. “We have lacrosse together. He’ll see me shirtless before too long.” Another beat of silence. “But I doubt he’ll think it was you,” he added, more for his own sake.

Derek nodded understandingly. “He’ll find out eventually,” he said.

A groan sounded from across the room, causing Derek to retract his hand and Stiles to simultaneously take a step away. He fixed his shirt as Derek resumed his cross-armed position. Scott awakened with a start, his breath coming back in a whoosh as he panted and looked around in momentary confusion. His attention went from the two standing just a few feet away to his arm, where two thick black bands encircled his bicep. The redness and initial effects of the burning had faded and healed already, leaving just the tattoo and all its glory.

“It worked,” he breathed, turning his gaze back to the other two.

Stiles smirked. Now they were both marked.


End file.
